


Graveyard

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drinking, Drug Use, M/M, Toxic love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22317829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: Inside, you feel like velvet and teeth both, dragging me in, barring me from your jagged heart.
Relationships: Reno/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Graveyard

**Author's Note:**

> To Halsey’s “Graveyard”

You look at me with eyes so dark, I don't know how you even see.

Your darkness goes right through me and I keep going, keep pursuing even when all the warning signs conceal themselves as butterflies.

My hands keep shaking even after five cigarettes in a row, the nicotine coursing through my veins and showing me just how much I need it to push through.

I take a deep breath and in this frigid weather it feels more like a death gasp.

I go on autopilot up to your door and I stand there. It took me all the way up the plate, up the elevator that makes my stomach queasy, where the glass shows my reflection like a fun house mirror horror show. Your door looks like a shiny prison and I ring the doorbell, realizing that I'm holding my breath. Only when the door whooshes open do I take in a breath again.

Your hair is in disarray. It's 2AM, but I knew you'd be up. I know you, even though you pride yourself on concealment. You showed your true self, even though I know you'd think it was a weakness, a mistake. Even like this you look beautiful. Perhaps even more beautiful because no one sees you like this—vulnerable.

You don't immediately let me in, blocking the door. Inside I see your coffee table and there's a decanter of whiskey on it, a full glass on a coaster. Even when you're a mess, you're neat, a storm that rages beneath a clean pressed suit. Only now you're wearing a rumpled black shirt, matching sleep pants, feet bare. There's a frown on your lips and I want to kiss it away, but I don't. I push past you, I invade your space.

I look at you. You're drunk. Your cheeks are flushed, and even in the low light I can see your pupils are blown wide. You did it again, no doubt concealing it neatly, but you can't hide it from me. Professional hazards, ways to deal with the graveyard of bodies that pile up inside your heart. You act like you don't care, that you've been doing it since you were eleven—a child forced to become an adult at that tender age, but I know how it affects you. I know how you deal with it with heroin and whiskey and your closed heart, but it’s a temporary escape. The guilt grips you like a vice. It chases you in the dark, as dark as your eyes.

And I would follow you into the graveyard, take your hand even though it's a weapon, but even though you let me in, you keep me at a distance because it's easy. Your kisses taste like whiskey and heaven and even though you push right through me, I feel you.

It takes a lot to be the fearless leader, but deep down you're terrified, take medicine to keep your hands steady so you can pull that trigger without showing that soft underbelly.

I want to embrace you, be your crux, but it's difficult. You make it difficult when it's so simple. If only you saw me following you down the darkest roads, going to the graveyard with you.

If they knew, they'd say I'm making a mistake, but I want to be messy with you. I want you. Only you. But I keep digging myself in your grave.

I do it happily.

I kiss you, and you let me. I see the tears in your eyes. You never let me lead, but you let me tonight. I drink down the glass of whiskey you've poured, pour another and down that too, and then I lead you to the bedroom.

Inside, you feel like velvet and teeth both, dragging me in, barring me from your jagged heart. If this is all I get, I'll take it. You're hard and soft both and the tears continue. I kiss them away and we move together like it's all a dangerous dance. It feels like a bullet in my heart, but I take it. I dig myself deeper, loving you even more. Is it a mistake? I don't care.

I'll follow you to the graveyard, even though my feet both hurt and my lungs take in a sharp gasp in the frigid air.

The hand I hold is nothing but a weapon, but it's mine.


End file.
